


What Is Mine

by Aud_Diane



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Journalist Betty Cooper, bughead - Freeform, detective duo, serpent Jughead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-13 06:03:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aud_Diane/pseuds/Aud_Diane
Summary: Betty Cooper is a journalist hunting for her next story. Jughead Jones is the leader of the Serpents, looking for whoever is responsible for the deaths in his territory. They strike a deal and vow to find who's responsible. Together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a new one everyone :) I've had a few people ask why I haven't posted in awhile and this is why! This story has taken so much work, but I am so beyond excited to finally share it with everyone. Let me know your thoughts :)

The bar was small and dingy. Sitting on the outskirts of the city, it’s décor and broken lights matched the trashed street outside. Too many bodies were shoved into the small space, but that could be expected for a Friday night. Bearded men in biker jackets crowed around a pool table while middle aged women wearing too bright of lipstick giggled loudly from the booths. Something was playing from an outdated dusty jukebox, maybe Pink Floyd. It was hard to tell over the drunken voices.

Jughead Jones sipped slowly on his beer. So far, his goal of remaining inconspicuous seemed to be working. Sitting in a dark corner with a beanie covering most of his head, no one even realized he was there and that was how it needed to stay. The others had told him not go alone. They said the Ghoulies would recognize the leader of their rival gang faster than Jughead would be able to pull out his gun, but he needed to find out if the tip they’d received the following night held any truth of it.

He glanced at the clock hanging above the grimy bottles of liquor. Two hours and no sign of the Ghoulies. No whispered drug deals in the corner. No sign that it nothing more than a dead end. Taking a long sip from his warm beer, he started to wonder if he should try again tomorrow.

“Vodka and cranberry juice, please. Thank you.”

Jughead almost choked on his bottle. From the crowd of leather and tube tops, a young woman pushed her way through. She was smiling politely, twisting the end of her blonde ponytail in between her fingers as she sat on the stool next to him. Her clothes were hard evidence that she’d never walked into the place before. Her simple t-shirt, jean shorts, and sneakers stood out horrifically in the sea of dark denim and plaid.

“I know you’re judging me on my incredibly basic drink, but you should know I don’t care.”

Jughead’s eyes jumped to her face, warmth spreading up his neck as he realized he’d been caught staring. He half-expected for her drink to come splashing across his face, but instead he saw her still smiling, although maybe a little cautiously. He didn’t blame her. She found him in the back corner of a piece of shit bar looking exactly like the other scum that littered it. He supposed it was lucky he left the Serpent jacket at home. That definitely would have freaked her out.

“I wasn’t judging your drink,” he replied honestly. “I might have been judging you for spending your Friday night in a piece of shit like this.”

“Oh, I see.” She still wore smile, but Jughead watched it slowly turn into a smirk. There was flash to the green in her eyes. “I didn’t realize this bar had a private guest list.”

Jughead snorted, glancing to the peeling wallpaper. “Yeah, it’s real exclusive.”

He wanted to ask what a girl like her was doing in bar supposedly owned by the Ghoulies but decided against it. For starters, he was supposed to laying low. And it was likely she didn’t realize the kind of place she had wandered into. It was for the best if she finished her drink quickly and left.

“So, that begs the question,” she started, feigning a thoughtful look as she sipped on her red drink. “What are _you_ doing here on a Friday night?”

He couldn’t exactly say the truth. Telling her he was staking out for drugs that were leaking into his territory would have sent her running for the hills, or the cops. Instead Jughead nodded towards his beer. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Drinking away your sorrows. Aren’t we all?” From behind them, there was a shout. An argument was starting from one of the groups. The girl watched it for a moment, before turning her attention back to him. “I’ll be honest. I’ve never been in here before. I saw it on my walk and thought I would give it a shot.”

Jughead paused. The street outside was sketchier than the bar itself. They were surrounded by crumbling apartment buildings, empty lots, and absconded cars on the side of the road. A girl who looked like she did wouldn’t last five minutes walking by herself. “You were on a walk? Here?”

Her smile faltered. The shouting grew louder and Jughead turned just as one of the men threw a punch at another. The bar erupted in drunken yelling too loud to even think straight. Bystanders leapt to their feet and Jughead did the same, prepared to try and edge his way out. Looking to help the girl, he was surprised to see her stool empty and drink sitting where she left it. In a few short seconds she managed to slip away. Jughead figured he should have been glad. Watching a punch get thrown her flight response must have kicked in and he knew she didn’t belong in a place like that. 

Jughead didn’t even get her name.

Pushing past bodies and keeping his head low, Jughead worked his way outside. After the stench of the decaying bar, the cool breeze felt nice. A few people scattered the sidewalk; mainly smokers and women in not enough clothes. The shouting from inside was dulled, but still there behind him. The night had been a complete bust. Either their intel was wrong or the Ghoulies didn’t hang out at their favorite bar all that often. He pulled his beanie tighter on his head, trying to remember which alley he’d stashed his bike when the roar of several cars grabbed his attention.

Fuck.

It was the exact situation he was trying to avoid. The headlights were on him in seconds putting his face directly in the spotlight. The onlookers on the sidewalks backed away, obviously knowing to stay away from the owners of the cars. Before they were even in park, six figures jumped from them. Dressed in their own signature leather, Jughead knew each of them. They were all Malachai’s.

“Jones,” the closest one laughed. Jughead noticed the gun in hand. He knew better than to pull his own. He’d had six bullets in his chest before he could blink. “I almost didn’t recognize you without a snake on your back.”

“Hey, Frankie,” he smiled, eyes flicking between all of the them. Everyone on sidewalks had vanished. “Long time no see.”

They all took a step forward. A muscle in his neck twitched.

“We got word a lone Serpent wandered into our bar,” Frankie grinned. “They said it looked an awful lot like you. Almost didn’t believe them.”

He could feel a bead of sweat of his forehead. Frankie’s grin grew. They knew he was cornered. “What shame that would have been. We wouldn’t have gotten this fun reunion.”

Th street was near silent now, like it could sense the fight that was about to occur, even the sounds from inside the bar had gone down. For a split second, Jughead’s thoughts went to the blonde. Wherever she was, he was thankful she had the sense to run when she did.

“Cut the shit, Jones.” The Ghoulie was directly in front of him, bursting with pride that he’d be handing over the Serpents’ leader to his boss. Jughead wondered how much time he had before Malachai finally showed. “You know you’re outnumbered. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. How about you go inside and wait like a good boy?”

Jughead smiled back. “Sure.”

He slammed his head forward. Even the sound of gunshots couldn’t drown out the sound of Frankie’s nose breaking against his skull.

***

Blood was dripping from somewhere on his head. He only knew because it was falling in slow drops from his nose. His hands were bound so tight behind the water pipe he had long lost feeling in them, but he didn’t mind that so much. Even where the bullets had grazed his arm weren’t so bad.

Jughead gave another pull. The rope wouldn’t budge. Boxes of liquor were stacked opposite of him, but they were no use to him. He was as good as dead as soon as Malachai showed up. He wouldn’t miss an opportunity finally have Jughead without his gang to back him up. There was quick scream from behind the bolted door and the sound of of several pairs of feet. For a moment, he thought another fight had broken out in the front of the bar, but then the door burst open and his mouth dropped.

One of Malachi’s buddies, an ugly one with a missing front tooth, stood in the doorway. Jughead couldn’t remember his name, but he was holding onto a pretty blonde. A few things had changed. Her hair was in disarray, falling out of her ponytail and frizzy. Dirt covered one cheek and smear of blood from her mouth covered the other. Someone had hit her. Gone was the smile she shot him not even twenty minutes before and instead was a terrifying scowl.

“Let _go_ of me!” She spat, trying to twist her torso to hit her captor. The Ghoulie shoved her forward, watching as she toppled over in front of Jughead. Lifting her head from the dirt covered concrete, Jughead watched her eyes grow when they locked onto his.

Frankie appeared beside his friend, leaning against the doorway. His face was still tinged pink from the blood and Jughead was pleased to see bruises appearing across his face. He still wore a stupid smirk. Jughead couldn’t stop himself from glowering.

“Sonny here found your girlfriend snooping in the back,” Frankie motioned down to the girl. She had spun around, shooting her own glare at the men standing above them. “I’ll admit that was pretty good. Distracting us while she did your dirty work.”

“I don’t know him!” she yelled, shooting Jughead a disgusted look. “I wasn’t snooping-!”

She was interrupted when Sonny shoved her back into the ground. Jughead yanked against the rope again. Her coughs filled the room. Frankie looked amused. “Listen sweetheart. We weren’t born yesterday. You were digging through the files. Malachai might let you off easy if you tell him what Jones had you going after. He’s got soft spot for blondes.”

It was a lie. Jughead knew they were both dead as soon as the Ghoulie boss arrived. “Frankie, listen to me. She’s telling the truth. I don’t know her. Just let her leave.”

He didn’t see the boot coming. Pain erupted on one side of his face, the girl let out a half-choked gasp, and the next moment he was spitting out a mouthful of blood. His hands clenched behind him.

“Fine. Don’t talk. Enjoy your last few minutes, Jones.”

The door slammed shut.

***

Betty Cooper tried to remember the last time she held against her will. She was pretty sure it had been was she was investigating the shipment of illegal guns at the docks a couple years ago. Or it could have been when she stumbled upon the underground prostitution ring. She couldn’t recall which incident was more recent. They had hit her then too. It was always the grunts doing the doing work that would tell her she would be dead the moment their boss arrived.

She was always long gone before that happened.

Veronica was going to be livid. She’d promised not to follow any more new leads for the time being, but Betty just couldn’t help it. All it had a taken was small whisper of a dangerous new drug and she was back on the streets. And now beaten in a storage room with a stranger.

Her head hurt from hitting the floor. Wiping away the blood in the corner of her mouth, she sat up to look at her fellow captor. Whoever he was, he had been in that bar for a reason, just like her. The only difference was the men already knew him. Betty wanted nothing more than to put as much distance in between the two of them.

“So,” he started, spitting out more blood before continuing. He looked at her from underneath the sweaty black hair plastered to his forehead. “You weren’t just out on a walk.”

“You weren’t just drinking away your sorrows,” she retorted. She began looking around the room. There wasn’t anything besides bottles of liquor. Nothing strong to break down the door or thin enough to pick the lock. “Now be quiet. I’m trying to figure this out.”

“Break one of the bottles.” He nodded towards the nearest box. “And cut my rope. I might be able to-.”

Betty gave a humorless laugh, watching him as his eyes narrowed to her. “You are out of your mind if you think I’m cutting you out. You obviously did something to piss them off and I’m not getting in the middle of that. I can do this myself.”

“And how do you plan to do that? You plan on fighting Malachai one on one when he shows up?”

She paused while inspecting the door. “Who’s Malachai?”

Even through the blood on his face, she could tell he was rolling his eyes. Annoyance heated in her chest. “Oh my God. You’re digging through the Ghoulies shit and you don’t even know who their leader is? What are you looking for anyways?”

“That’s none of your business,” she huffed, giving a firm tug to the door handle. Nothing. “And let me guess. They were dealing to you and you owe them money?”

“Wrong. Their gang and mine-.”

“ _Your_ gang?”

Of course, because who else could so easily get them themselves into the middle of a gang war. Betty wanted nothing more to than be home with her laptop, tea in one hand and skimming through the files she had on the flash drive currently hidden in her bra. Instead, she was locked in a room by gang members withtheir rival.

“I’ll help you get out.” He was looking at her carefully, taking advantage of her stunned look to speak quickly. “Cut me loose and we’ll get out together, but if you don’t they will kill you without even thinking twice.”

Betty swallowed, contemplating her options. She had no idea how much longer until the supposed Malachai arrived. Based on what she had seen so far, she had no reason to believe they’d let er go. “When we get out, you’ll let me leave? I go my way and you go yours?”

“I’m not going to lock you up,” he answered firmly. “I swear, but we need to leave. _Now._ ”

Ignoring the fact she had no reason to trust this man, Betty knew she at least had a chance if she followed him. Grabbing the nearest bottle, she smashed it against the wall. The sound was louder than they both expected. She looked to the door, muscles tensing. There were raised voice from down the hallway.

“Hurry,” he whispered. Betty clambered behind him, gripping the shard of glass so tight it was cutting into her own palm. She moved quickly. If she cut him at all, he didn’t say. The voices grew louder and Betty flung herself across the room just as the door flew open again. She wondered what her ally would do, but kept his hands tightly behind the pole.

Betty dropped the glass shard as the man, Sonny, looked at her. When he had found her in the office, he had hit her so hard across the face she had hit the wall behind her. She had no desire for a repeat.

“The fuck is going on in here.” He glanced to the glass shattered floor and spilled liquor. His back was to the man on the pole.

“I’m sorry.” Betty tried to keep her voice light and innocent. It didn’t work, because he continued to glare. “I knocked it over.”

He was going to say something, but she never found out what. Betty jumped to wall and stifled her scream as the man jumped on the Ghoulie member, hitting him unconscious in a matter of seconds. Now that he was standing, she could how badly he was hurt. Blood covered one arm from a wound she couldn’t see. His beanie was soaked with it as well and she made the horrible realization that it wasn’t sweat that made his hair stick to his face.

“Thanks,” she breathed, watching the Ghoulie slumped on the floor. She gave small kick to his side. It was shame he didn’t go out more painfully.

“No problem,” he answered, his own large breaths matching her own. Betty knew he was in pain, but no complaint ever came. “You ready to make a run for it?”

She nodded. “I think I’ve had enough gang activity for tonight.”

He snorted, before looking towards the open door. It must have been clear, because he glanced back to her. “Hey, I forgot to ask. What’s your name?”

Betty was about to stay silent, but realized she’d never be seeing the man again. Besides, there was a small chance they’d get shot and die in a few minutes. What did it matter if he knew her name? “Betty.”

“Jughead.” She opened her mouth, but he raised a hand to stop her. “And before whatever smart ass comment comes out your mouth, I’ve already heard them all.”

“Fine. Lead the way Jughead.”

It turned out sneaking through the back hallways of the Ghoulies building was easy. They must have been confident Sonny could handle a small girl and a tied up, beaten Jughead on his own because there wasn’t single other person in sight. Jughead had been adamant on staying in front at the beginning, but Betty knew her way around. For a few short minutes she had complete freedom to roam the halls earlier that evening.

“There’s a window up here,” she whispered, shoving past Jughead to motion to a back room. “I saw it when I scouting escape routes before.”

He didn’t argue. “Where does it lead out to? Everyone is up at the front. We need to make sure we run the opposite way.”

“I think it opens to the alley.” They rounded another corner and there it was. “When do you think they’ll realize we’re gone?”

From behind them, there was muffled sound of a door slamming and then shouting. The thundering noise of boots running filled the hallway. Jughead pushed her in the direction of the window. “I think they know.”

She flung the window open. Sharp, night air whipped across her face but there was no time to enjoy it. Betty was practically thrown through the window by Jughead. With her feet finally on the broken cement, she paused. She knew she should take off sprinting, but she waited as Jughead climbed through. There was the sound of gunshots. Jughead grimaced but Betty gave him no time to stand. Gripping his arm, they both took off running.

She had no idea where they were going. Adrenaline fueled her because she was positive she had never ran so fast in her life.  Betty didn’t even notice the pounding in her head anymore, just the one in her chest.

After turning several corners, Jughead finally pulled her to a stop behind a dumpster. Betty collapsed against it, breathing heavy and coughing. Sweat pooled on her forehead and her knees shook, but the cool of the metal on her back felt good. Jughead leaned against the brick next to her clutching his side.

“Get a quick breath,” he told her. The muscles in his jaw were tense. “Then we gotta keep moving.”

“I feel like I’m going to pass out,” she rasped, looking up at him. Something was off. Color had drained from his face. “And you look like you’re going to pass out. Are you okay?”

Jughead moved his hand from his side. His palm gleamed crimson. Betty gasped just as his knees his the ground. She reached for him, trying to keep his torso from toppling over. “Jughead? Jughead! Hey, stay with me. You said we have to keep moving.”

She ducked under one of his arms and stood, leaning into his weight. He was walking, but she could hear his rattled breath. Blood from his torso was soaking into her side. There was no plan. She had no idea where the closest hospital was. The only situation was to keep putting distance in between them and the Ghoulies.

“Just keep walking,” she gasped. His arm was heavy on her shoulders. “We’ve got this. We’ve got this.”

The alley was flooded with lights and the roaring of motorcycles. Betty froze. Fear shot through her veins. They were trapped. Figures dressed in leather rushed towards them; some yelling Jughead’s name and others shouting at each other. One of closest pulled Betty away from him. She screamed, kicking at whoever was holding her. Another was holding Jughead upright.

Betty screamed again, hoping someone somewhere would hear, but it was cut short when she was hit on the back of the head.


	2. Chapter 2

Jughead awakened slowly, blinking and raising his hand to shield him from the bright light hanging over his head. His body ached and his head felt heavy, but he managed to sit himself up on the table he was sprawled across. His stained shirt was thrown on the floor. Several bandages covered his arms and larger one was plastered on his side. Groaning, he ran a hand through his hair and winced at his tender head.

“He lives. It’s a miracle.”

Jughead could recognize the sarcastic comment anywhere. Fully waking up, he realized he was in one the rooms above the Serpents’ bar and he wasn’t alone. Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs were all sitting in nearby chairs. The looks on their faces said it all, but Jughead knew he was going to hear it from them anyway. He wondered how long they had been for him to wake up. Most likely hours, judging by the bags under their eyes. Toni’s sleeves were rolled up and Jughead didn’t miss the tinge of pink on her hands.

“Thanks, Toni,” he groaned, swinging his legs off the table. “How bad was it?”

“Jones, I’m losing track of how many bullet holes I’ve had to sew up on you,” she snarled. “But this time wasn’t bad. You just needed stitches on your side. From what I could tell, it didn’t hit anything important. All the others are grazes and whatever you did to your head is pretty shallow.”

Sweet Pea tossed him a shirt and his Serpent jacket. “What the hell were you thinking? We told you we’d all go check it out together.”

Jughead winced as put on the t-shirt. “Yeah because a big group of Serpents walking in wouldn’t look suspicious at all.”

“Like your plan worked so well.” Toni shot him a hard look. “You’re lucky we noticed you were gone. If we hadn’t found you when we did, the Ghoulies would have caught up with you. You would have left the Serpents leaderless.”

He could barely remember getting found. He remembered running, making sure Betty was always a step in front of him so he didn’t lose her. He had promised to get her out and he had intended to see it all the way through. Letting her catch her breath was when it all went wrong. The pain in his side caught up with him, his head became too heavy to think. He could vaguely recall her lifting him up and walking, before she started screaming.

“Where’s the girl at?” He demanded, suddenly realizing she wasn’t in the room. “The one who was with me?”

“Oh, we put her in the basement until you decide what you want to do with her. Why was she- _hey_ , where are you going?”

Jughead shoved past them, throwing on his jacket as quickly as he could. His friends followed closely behind him as he burst into the hall.

“Hey, we didn’t know who she was,” Fangs yelled behind him. “You were passed out and she was screaming at the top of her lungs. She was going to have everyone on the block calling the cops if we didn’t do something.”

He bounded down the stairs into the Whyte Wyrm. Even though it had to be the early hours of the morning, it was still packed. Some of the people greeted him, but he ignored them. They made a clear path in the center of the crowd for him. “Wouldn’t you scream too if a gang was dragging you away? She’s not a problem. She was there for the same reason I was.”

Shoving through a couple of bartenders, he worked his way to the rooms behind the counter. Away from the noise, he finally made it to the basement stairs. He started to go down when Toni grabbed his arm.

“You don’t know her,” she hissed. “Be smart about this.”

“I’m the leader of the gang, Toni,” he answered, prying her fingers off him. She was still giving him a hateful look. “She knew that and she could have left me bleeding out in the street. Instead, I’m here talking to you.”

***

Betty was doing her absolute best not to cry. How could have been so _stupid_. She was smarter than that. She was smarter than all the horrible decisions she had made that night. She’d walked straight from one gang’s lair to the other and now was going to die.

It had been hours since she awoke, tied to a wooden chair in what appeared to be a basement. Water dripped from somewhere in the corner and small window near ceiling showed the sun hadn’t risen yet. Someone had wiped the blood off her skin, but her clothes were dried with blood that didn’t belong to her. When she first woke up, the stains made her think of Jughead. She wished he was tied up with her. At least then, she would have known he made it out alright. But as the hours ticked on, she realized what had happened. She was still alive because it wasn’t Malachai that picked them up, but Jughead’s gang. It made sense that they had come to the aid of their fearless leader and showed up when he needed them most. She was tied up because she wasn’t one of them.

He lied to her.

After only hearing footstep and music from above her, there was finally the sound of door opening and someone coming her way. The rope on her hands was too tight for her to do anything but wait. When he finally walked into her view, Betty felt the hot rage she’d been building up. The gag on her mouth prevented her exact words from escaping, but she hoped he could hear how angry she was.

Jughead stood in front of her, the blood finally wiped from his face and a blood free shirt on. His beanie was still sideways on his head, much like when she had first found him in the corner of the bar. The only difference was the piece of leather that hung off him.

“Oh, shit Betty. Here-.” He reached forward to rip the gag down. “I’m so-“

“You liar!” She screamed, as soon as the cloth fell from her mouth. Jughead recoiled as she pulled on her ties. Nothing happened. “I knew better than to trust you, but I did! I saved your life and you tied me up in your basement! Your _basement_! You said you wouldn’t-.”

“I didn’t know. I just woke up. Stop moving and I’ll get you out.”

“No! I’m not doing anything you say! You’re going to kill me and bury me in some hole. I know how this whole gang thing works! I am not going to make it easier on you. I’m going to scream and fight the entire way!”

His eyes grew hard. “I’m not going to kill you. Will you please let me untie you? Then, you can scream at me standing up if you want.”

Betty glowered, but she decided to remain silent. Jughead paused before leaning over her to cut his knife through her bonds. As soon as the rope hit the floor, her fist swung. The knife dropped to the floor and Jughead grabbed her arm, spinning her to trap her other arm at her side. Her back slammed into his chest and she became increasingly annoyed at strong he was.

“Hey!” He growled in her ear. “I’m trying to help you!”

“Don’t lie to me!” she hissed through gritted teeth, trying to break out of his grasp. He held onto her tighter. “I’ve been stuck in here for hours!”

“ _I didn’t know_. If you stop trying to hit me, I’ll let you go. Deal?”

Betty tried one more time to rip away from him, but Jughead wasn’t letting his grip waiver. Deciding it wasn’t worth it, she finally stopped moving. Jughead gave her a sharp shove and she quickly moved away from him.

“Thank you,” he grunted. “It’s been a long night. I really don’t have it in me to fight you right now.”

“I want to go home.”

 “That, I can’t really do. We have to talk first.”

Betty felt her face fall.

“You promised-.”

“I said,” he interrupted, walking towards her. Betty tilted her chin to glower at him. She hoped she looked intimidating. “I wouldn’t lock you up, which I don’t plan on doing. I need to know what you found out about the Ghoulies.”

Betty was suddenly all too aware of the flash drive shoved into the lining of her bra. Jughead must have seen her hesitation, because he was watching her cautiously.  

“I don’t know what I found,” she answered honestly. “There wasn’t time.”

“Fair enough.” He motioned to the door behind them. “Want to talk about it over breakfast? I’m starving.”

She looked at the door and wondered what her chances were if she made a run for it. Probably slim. “Do I have a choice?”

Jughead stepped aside to let her walk up the stairs first. “Not really.”

***

By the time coffee had been set in front of the them, the sun had begun to peak through the streets. The diner was nearly empty, for which Betty was grateful. She knew she was mess and wasn’t in the mood for stares from strangers. Jughead had picked a corner booth far from the door, she assumed for privacy, but a part of her wondered it was also in case she made a bolt for the door. It was probably a bit of both.

“Okay, why don’t you tell me why you were in the bar last night?” he asked nicely enough, but Betty knew the conversation wasn’t optional. “And you can wipe that terrified look off your face. I’m not going to do anything to you.”

She sniffed, cradling the coffee cup in her hands. The warmth was soothing. She glanced to windows, watching as a few early morning walkers passed by. “How do you know the Ghoulies won’t find us here? They’re probably looking everywhere.”

“It’s not their territory,” Jughead answered simply, following her gaze to the windows. “We don’t have to worry about them here.”

Betty nodded, taking a small sip. “But you were in their territory?”

“I was looking for something.” Jughead was watching her again. “Which brings us back to the original question, what were you doing?”

“I was looking for something too,” she answered, quickly and honestly. She had a feeling he would know if she tried to lie. “It’s kind of my job. I go looking for stuff like this and then I write about it.”

Jughead quirked an eyebrow, his smile faltering. “You’re an investigative journalist.”

He wasn’t asking, but Betty nodded anyway. “It keeps the lights on. Anyway, my informer told me there was a new drug that’s killing people on the south side. He said the city was trying to keep it quiet until they found the lab, but he knew the name of the bar. He didn’t know what it was, only that it was involved.” She took another small sip. “I was hoping I could catch a drug deal, or even find the lab.”

Jughead didn’t say anything. Her hands shook on her coffee cup. If he didn’t believe her, what would that mean? He said he wouldn’t to do anything to her, but could she trust that?

“I swear, that’s the truth. Look.” Ignoring the look of surprise on his face, she reached under her shirt and retrieved the flash drive she’d stashed away and slammed it on the table. “There was a computer in their back room. I always keep one if these on me. I only had time to drag some random files to it before I heard them coming. I don’t know if I have anything useful.”

Jughead reached for it, but she snatched it back.

“Is there a reason I can’t have that?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “It’s mine.”

There was another moment of silence. Betty clenched the flash drive so hard her knuckles turned white.

“What if I promise to give it back when I’m done with it?”

“No.” She folded her arms tightly. “I earned this. I’m not letting some gang member walk away with my clue.”

“I’m not just trying to write some cute little story for middle-age moms to read while their kids are napping,” he scowled. “I’ve got bodies turning on my side of town with this shit in their system. I need to find out what’s going on and shut it down.”

“Really,” Betty scoffed. “Don’t gangs usually deal the drugs, not try to keep them off the street.”

Jughead’s features dropped. Betty instantly lost her sardonic smile. Guilt twisted in her stomach.

“You don’t know anything about what I do,” he scowled, raising his coffee cup back to his lips. “I’ve been waiting months for a tip on where it’s coming from and you might have it in your hand.”

“If I give this to you and it has any information, you’ll just go after whoever is running it, won’t you? What good does that do me? I want this drug off the streets as much as you do, but I have to have something to write about. It’s what literally pays my bills.”

Jughead groaned, running his hands behind his neck. Betty felt for him, but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to write about an underground drug bust. Not only was it incredibly rewarding after turning in the criminals, those kinds of stories always sold the best.

Food was set down in front of them. Betty didn’t realize she was starving until she saw the pancakes. Grabbing her fork, she thanked the waitress before taking a huge bite. Jughead popped a fry in his mouth and thanked the smiling waitress as well.

“You must come here a lot,” Betty commented, cutting another bite. “She doesn’t care I’m covered in dried blood.”

“Only when I’ve been up all night being shot at,” he shrugged. “The grease helps the stitches.”

Betty rolled her eyes. It was oddly easy sitting there in the back corner of a diner, the morning sun barely coming through the window with Jughead. She still had her reservations. Although she was mildly impressed he was trying to clean his streets of drugs, he was still in a gang. No. He was _in charge_ of a gang and that couldn’t be ignored

“What if we make a deal,” she asked, looking up from her food to watch his reaction. Jughead raised a brow, so she took that as a sign to continue. “I don’t have any plans to back away from this and apparently you don’t either. I need a story to print and you need the culprit. Let me help you find out who’s doing this. You could use it and I’ll have something to write about. And by the end, you will have already gotten your hands on them before I even publish the story. It’s a win win.”

“No way,” he countered, mouth full of fries. “This is messy. The Ghoulies are dangerous, but they’re all idiots. They’re not inventing new drugs, just dealing them. I have no idea where this could lead.”

“Okay?” Betty waved her fork in the air as she spoke. “What part of how I make a living don’t you understand. I’ve done this before. You probably need my help more than I need yours.”

Jughead’s expression was hard to read. She was tempted to press the idea forward, but kept her mouth shut. Betty knew if he really wanted to, he had the means to take the flash drive from her. “If we do this, we’re going to need trust both ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that you can’t be going off to do shit on your own with this. I need to be in know at all times.” He waited for her to nod, before continuing. “You can’t be putting me in your story either. Absolutely no mention of the Serpents.” She nodded again. “And you’re going to have to trust me.”

Betty paused. It wasn’t as though she’d never worked with criminals before. She had multitude of informants she could pay off when necessary, but actually working _with_ the leader of a gang was something out of her comfort zone. However, she hadn’t even known the man twelve hours and they had already saved each other’s lives.

“Fine,” she answered shortly, stuffing in another bite of pancakes. “I don’t want your gang around me.”

Jughead stopped eating to give her a fixed look. “That was an accident. They didn’t know.”

Betty ignored him. She had no desire to discuss it. Glancing to the windows, she saw the streets growing lighter. “Am I allowed to go home after breakfast?”

His expression shifted to annoyance. “Yes. I’m not keeping you hostage. I’ll drop you off.”

“I’ll walk,” she answered stiffly. “I don’t really want you knowing where I live.”

If Betty had to guess, she would have thought his face looked pained, as if she’d hurt his feelings. It only lasted for split second, before he glowered back to her and she realized it must have been a trick of the light. They ate the remainder of their meal in silence all while Betty regretted every single decision she made that led her to that moment.

***

By the time Betty was unlocking her apartment, it was nearly seven in the morning. The night was catching up with her body. The muscles her in legs were screaming for rest and her eyelids were barely staying open. Tossing the flash drive on her kitchen counter, she immediately walked to her bedroom. She stripped off her shirt first, letting the crimson-stained material stay where it fell. She’d throw it away later. Next were the shorts, dirty and frayed, and finally the shoes. There were splatters of blood on the top she hadn’t noticed before.

Falling on top of her sheets, still covered in sweat and grime, Betty was asleep before she even had time to think about Jughead Jones.

***

It was late when Jughead finally climbed the worn steps of his bar. It had finally emptied and thankfully none of his fellow Serpents were around to give him any more shit about what had happened. He was exhausted, his stitches were beginning to pull and ache, and his mind was racing. He wanted nothing more than to fall into a deep sleep and not wake up for hours.

Entering his apartment, he threw his jacket absentmindedly on the couch and kicked off his boots. Leaving everything else on, he fell onto his bed, praying sleep would come quick. It did, but not before the image of Betty’s face during their last conversation crossed his mind; filled with disgust, caution, and a bit fear. He knew she was only working with him because she had to. The look said it all.

He was the leader of a gang and Betty would never let him forget it.


	3. Chapter 3

.

_Buuzzz_

Betty groaned, shoving her face further into her heaping pile of pillows. There was no way she’d been asleep for more than a few hours. The sunlight was too bright in her room, illuminating the newspaper clippings on her walls. Ignoring the stiffness in her shoulders, she blindly reached for her phone on the nightstand before it could buzz again.

“Hello?” Oh God. Her voice sounded like she’d been hit by a truck.

“Betty Cooper, do not make me come up there and kick your ass.”

Her eyes flung open. Panic shot through her core. Throwing herself out of bed, Betty grabbed what appeared to be a somewhat clean sundress off her floor. It’d have to do. “Oh my God, V. I am so sorry. I can meet you there soon.”

“Try again. I’m already outside, my troublesome blonde.”

“Let yourself in.” Betty skidded into the bathroom, starting the shower. There was no way she could go shopping with bits of dried blood in her hair. Veronica would know what she was up to the second she saw it. “I’ll be ready in five minutes tops.”

Betty couldn’t believe she forgot. She _knew_ she had plans with Veronica, the very friend she promised she’d take a break from sleuthing. Veronica’s wedding was a mere few weeks away and Betty had given her word that she’d have her undivided attention.

Just as Betty was rinsing her hair, there was the distinct sound of heels in her hallway before the bathroom door flung open.

“Alright, out with the truth,” the voice demanded through the shower curtain. Betty could almost picture Veronica’s manicured nails tapping her folded arms. “I was texting you _all_ night and now it’s almost noon and you were sleeping? Spill, Nancy Drew.”

Her stupid phone. Of course. She hadn’t taken it last night as a simple precaution. Now, she wished more than anything she had. Hot guilt twisted in her stomach. “You are looking way into this. I stayed up half the night reading and forgot to set an alarm.” She pulled back the curtain slightly, hoping to give Veronica her best puppy dog eyes. “You know you can’t stay mad at me.”

Her best friend stood in the doorway of her steamy bathroom. Dressed in a killer pink dress and shoes that cost more than Betty’s education, she was standing straight with her arms behind her. Eyes glinting and a thin smile planted on her face, she tilted her head. Betty’s smile dropped as Veronica pulled out her bloody shirt she’d left in the hallway earlier. “Right. I forgot how bloodied you get when reading.”

A million excuses ran through Betty’s mind, each dumber than the last, but Veronica didn’t give her a chance to say any of them.

“I want the full story,” she sighed, dramatically. She let the shirt fall from her fingertips. “They’re always juicy when you come home covered in blood, but hurry up because I need a full afternoon of shopping for this honeymoon. Oh, and you’re buying lunch for lying to me.”

***

Betty couldn’t remember when she and Veronica had become best friends, but she could remember how excited Archie Andrews had been to introduce the two of them. Even though Veronica had quickly taken his place, Archie had been Betty’s closest friend since childhood. Surviving adolescence together, they decided they might as well take on college together too. It wasn’t long before Archie was begging Betty to meet his newest arm candy. Betty had her reservations. After all, the girl came from a family that owned most businesses that side of the country while Betty and Archie came from a town so small it wasn’t even on most maps, but the second Veronica latched her arm around Betty, she knew it was a match made in best friend heaven.

Now years later, with Archie’s ring sparkling on Veronica’s left hand, Betty couldn’t count her blessings at how lucky she was.

“I know I swore I would give you my full attention these next few weeks,” Betty began, hoping the pleading look in her eyes looked genuine. “I just couldn’t help it! It’s a drug that’s _killing_ people. What am I supposed to do?”

Veronica sighed, motioning for the waiter to pour wine. “I shouldn’t have expected you to quit. The idea of you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong is truly mind boggling.” Betty gave her a look. “But are you really telling me you just _happened_ upon this information?”

Betty’s face turned red. She took a deep sip of the freshly poured alcohol before continuing. “I might have asked my informant if he had anything for me.” Veronica raised a brow. “Fine. I paid my informant to give me something.”

“There it is,” Veronica exulted, raising her glass before taking a sip as well. “Paid someone to get yourself locked up twice, shot at, and now involved with two gangs. I think that’s your personal record for a Friday night.”

“I didn’t know it was going to be that bad,” Betty defended. She stabbed at her salad, ignoring the looks from the nearby table. “Believe me, my goal in all of this was not to be working with some gang member.”

“Oh please.” Veronica’s eyes practically disappeared in her skull. “Getting yourself a tag along gang member is exactly the kind of thing you’d do. I’m honestly a little surprised this is the first time it’s happening.”

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned?” Betty teased. “I just told you I’m going to have the leader of the Serpents by my side until I finish this story and you’re completely unbothered by it. Aren’t best friend supposed to be worried when the other makes dumb choices?”

“Betty Cooper, you always make dumb choices. If I worried about all of them, I’d be dead by now. If you want my honest opinion, I don’t know what you’re being so pissy about. He’s mad about some kids dying off a drug and just wants answers.”

“But he’s-.”

Veronica lifted a manicured finger. “If you tell me he’s in a gang one more time, I will throttle you. What does that have to do with anything? Based on the fact he’s going after people who are causing this whole thing, I doubt they’re dealing themselves.”

“It could be worse though,” Betty shivered. “What if they deal in prostitution, or illegal weapons trade-Veronica, what of he’s killed someone?”

Her best nearly choked on her sip of wine. “Didn’t you stab a guy with a screwdriver once?”

Oh, right.

“It was self-defense,” Betty sniffed. “And he didn’t _die._ ”

“Whatever.” Veronica eye’s glinted over the rim of her glass. “You just don’t want to admit he didn’t seem that bad. Now, if you don’t mind we have items of a bit more importance to discuss. I called the bakery today and they informed I didn’t order the crystal swans to go on top of the cake! Can you believe that?”

It was finally the distraction she craved. Betty didn’t want to talk about Jughead anymore. She tried to think over their evening, looking for a hint that he was the ruthless leader she imagined him to be.

There was nothing.

***

“I want a text in the morning. I can’t trust you won’t go and get yourself killed at some point between now and then.”

“ _Okay_.”

“And I will be checking up on you,” Veronica lectured, eyeing Betty over the rim of her sunglasses. “Do all the fun illegal, drug deal stuff you want but don’t you dare forget about this wedding.”

“Okay, Veronica!” Betty shouted over her shoulder, walking into her apartment building. Her friend gave one last wave from the car before speeding off and Betty let out a long breath of air. She loved her friend dearly, but with the afternoon coming to a close, she was finally free to do what she was really craving.

Racing up the stairs and fumbling with her key ring, Betty was changed into her comfiest pairs of legging and curled in her bed with the laptop in record time. She held her breath plugging in the flash drive, waiting for an ingredient list or even a name of buyers to come popping up on the page. Maybe she’d even get so lucky to see something signed by the person in charge.

Betty knew better. It was never that easy, but a girl could hope.

Instead, she was greeted with a list of forms. Some were for the building; rent, an old bill from when they fixed the roof. More were orders for the bar; lists of beer, backpay they owed on some liquor. Her heart sank further with each mouse click. By the time she reached the last file, her palms were sweaty with anticipation.

It was an order for new bar stools.

Betty slammed the laptop shut, wanting nothing more than to fling it off the bed. The entire night had been for nothing. Getting her name on the Ghoulies hit list, forcing herself to work with the Serpents, running for her life and getting shot at…it had all been pointless. The few files she managed to snag were nothing but junk.

She gripped the roots of her hair, laying back with a defeated _humph_. Her intel had been clear. Check out the bar on the westside and she would find out all she needed about the new drug. Betty decided to take a new course of action. Ripping off the blankets, she paused just long to put on a pair of tennis shoes and take her pouch of cash out of the nightstand before leaving the apartment for a second time.

Riverdale wasn’t a large city, not when compared to New York City or Chicago. It had its flashy downtown, where Veronica and Archie shared a high-rise apartment, and its fair share of graffitied street corners. There was the westside across the river, where everyone knew you didn’t visit unless you were looking for paid love or a high, and adorable neighborhoods to the north with playgrounds on every street. Betty lived on the fine line between the two, in a small brick building with a couple dozen apartments. She had a favorite bakery around the corner and she wasn’t far from a local coffee shop, but her favorite part was she was only a short cab ride from her favorite spot to get a scoop.

Her cab driver seemed confused when she told him stop almost immediately after the neighborhood started to sour, but didn’t argue when she stuffed a few crumbled bills into his hand. Her informant was good, but usually difficult to find. Looking for him on foot was simply easier. After walking for only a few minutes, the sidewalk began to crack and the businesses on either side became fewer and fewer. There were no more trimmed bushes and more windows were boarded up than not. Although the sun was still up, figures hung around street corners, passing money and hidden pills with quick fingers. A mother walked by, a screaming infant with a missing sock in one arm while a cigarette hung from the fingers of the other. Betty walked by a group of bikers, hardly paying them any attention, while glancing down the darkened alleys for her friend.

“Betty?”

She froze. It was not a voice she had planned on hearing. Turning around, she realized it wasn’t just a group of bikers she’d walk by. On the arms and backs of all of their black leather, was an emerald green snake. Jughead Jones stood at the front of the group, watching her with his eyes pulled together. She had to admit, he looked pretty good when he wasn’t recovering from being shot and beaten. He looked like he did when she first sat by him in the bar; beanie slung over his head, bright blue eyes. If only he wasn’t wearing that stupid piece of leather, his looks might have interested her more.

“Oh, hi,” she stammered. His friends were looking to her now. Her stomach turned when she recognized several of them from the night before. “What are you doing here?”

He said something to the others before answering her. One of them, a very attractive girl with pink hair, shot her a dealdly look before walking away. The other followed. Another, a young man with a snake tattoo on her neck, looked at her over his shoulder. Betty swallowed a nervous cough in her throat.

“Working. Why are you wandering around here alone?”

“I’m looking for a friend,” she answered, honestly. Jughead looked at their surroundings. Down the street, a woman threw a beer bottle out of a second story window at a man. There was the distinct sound of yelling. He looked back to her; a brow raised. “A friend that knows things.”

Jughead looked at her pointedly. “Your informant? I thought the deal was we were working on this case together.”

“And I was supposed to reach you how?” she argued, crossing her arms. “Was I supposed to light a signal fire to let you know you know I was ready?”

“Funny,” he deadpanned, motioning for her to keep walking. Betty complied, glancing around as he kept in step besides her. “Anything on the flashdrive?”

“Not a single thing.” The men selling on the street corner looked up as they approached. When their eyes landed on Jughead, they vanished quickly; one darting into a building and the other walking swiftly down the street. Betty wondered if he had a reputation of going after all dealers, not just the new ones. She’d have to ask later. “It was just records for the buildings and some orders of alcohol. Nothing relevant. That’s why I want to talk to my source again. He promised that bar would lead me somewhere.”

Jughead nodded, eyes forward as they continued. Betty kept looking around them, but so far there was no sign of her friend.

“You alright?” he asked, after a moment of silence. She glanced to him, confused. “You know, after last night?”

“Oh, yeah. No serious damage. What about you? The bullet holes holding up well?”

He grinned, patting his side where she remembered seeing his hand pull away covered in blood. “My friends stitched me up pretty good. At this point, they’ve had a lot of practice.”

She snorted, glancing around a nearby dumpster. “Lucky you. I thought my friend was going to kill me this morning when she found out what I was up to.”

“What?” he asked, looking down at her with a small smirk. “Your friends don’t approve of you being tied up in someone’s basement?”

“Not exactly.” Betty paused before continuing. A part of her was wondering if it would be wrong to spill too much of her personal life. But another part, the winning one, felt too comfortable walking down the street with Jughead and discussing parts of her life that didn’t involve blood and drugs. “She’s getting married soon. I kind of promised no new cases until after the wedding.”

“But Nancy Drew just couldn’t resist.”

She shot him a look, only causing his smirk to grow. She hated when people called her that. Turning her attention back to scanning the streets, Betty decided to move the conversation back to the situation at hand. The sooner they found out who was behind everything, the sooner she’d be rid of him.

“Who’s your informant anyway? I probably know them.”

“He told me to call him Billy,” she replied as they rounded a corner. Children sitting on a nearby stoop watched them silently. “I’m sure he gives everyone a different name though. I ran into him on the docks on one of my first cases. I was looking for a shipment of guns off the black market and he was able to show me to right shipping crate for the cash I had in my pocket. Apparently, he knows secrets on everyone. I’ve been paying him for information ever since.”

Jughead’s face turned more grim as he took in her information. “And he’s the one who told you to go to the bar?”

“Yes, which I don’t understand. His intel has always been good and there was nothing there.”

They started to pass another alley, but Betty stopped swiftly. Jughead halted behind her. Half-hidden behind a dumpster and easily missed if she hadn’t been looking, were a pair of denim clad legs and torn boots. Squaring her shoulders, she marched into the shadows. Side-stepping puddles of brown muck and rotting garbage, she planted herself in front of the passed out drunk.

“Billy,” she prodded, kicking the sole of one of his shoes. He gave a loud snore. “Billy!”

Jughead appeared by her side, ripping the man up from the ground and against the brick wall in a flash. The smell of alcohol and vomit that wafted from his was nauseating. Betty wrinkled her nose as he spluttered back to life, slicking the hair out of his eyes to see who was holding him.

“I’m awake- _I’m awake_ -oh shit-fucking Serpents. What’d I do to piss you off, Jones?”

“Hey, _Billy_ ,” Jughead smiled. “I’m just curious why you’re sending girls out into Ghoulie territory on shit tips?”

“Shit tips?” It was then that his bloodshot eyes finally found Betty. Despite the fact Jughead still had a tight hold on his front, he gave short laugh. “Oh, you met my favorite blonde. Small world.”

Betty glanced at Jughead, but he was still glaring at Billy. She stepped forward and thankfully Jughead started to loosen his grip. Billy feet landed back onto the pavement and he gave a short brush to his shirt, even though it did nothing to help his appearance.

“How do you two know each other?” she asked, unsure if she really wanted to know.

“Jonsie and I go way back,” Billy coughed. “Way before his daddy passed down the Serpent crown. It’s been a long time though. How long exactly?”

“I’m not sure,” Jughead answered harshly. “How long ago was it that I caught you selling to Southside High kids?”

He took a step forward and Betty realized he was about to throw Billy back against the wall. She stepped in front of him, letting her arm stop Jughead in the chest. Jughead froze but he remained stiff behind her.

“Listen, just tell me what I need to know and we’ll leave you alone,” she promised, keeping her voice light. Billy was still eyeing Jughead. “You told me yesterday to go to the bar-.”

Billy’s eyes snapped back to her. “No. You asked for the hot gossip on the street. I told you a drug has been killing people. I told the Ghoulies were dealing it. I told you where the Ghoulies like to hang out. I didn’t tell you to _do_ anything.”

“You knew she’d go there,” Jughead snarled from over her head. Betty pressed more firmly against him, hoping it’d be enough to keep him back.

“That’s not my problem. She asked for a tip, that’s what she got. Now, if you wanted something a bit more substantial, I’d be happy to oblige.” He smiled widely, revealing several missing teeth. “For a cost.”

“If you knew more, why didn’t you say anything yesterday?” she demanded, beginning to feel dumber with each passing word.  “We were shot at for nothing!”

“We? Is he your body guard now?”

“Maybe.” Betty set her jaw. “We’ll find out if you don’t answer my question.”

Billy gave another look over her head. She wished she could see how Jughead was looking at him. “You didn’t pay me for me more. You know the drill. No money, no talking.” He waited until she reached in her pocket, waving the small pouch of cash.  “Perfect. Now, hand it over-.”

“Talk first,” Jughead ordered. “Then she’ll pay you.”

She wondered if Billy was going to argue. He must have decided against it, but he kept his eyes on the small pouch as he began to talk. “The drug, they call it Jingle Jangle. It’s not brought in made. The Ghoulies put it together _and_ deal it. That’s all I got.”

“Not brought in made?” Betty questioned out loud. “What does-?”

“Great.” Jughead put his hands on Betty’s shoulders, steering her towards the sunlight at the entrance to the alley and successfully ending her questioning. “Very helpful, Billy.”

“Hey!” The voice echoed down the alley. Betty flinched when she felt Jughead’s hands stiffen. Surely Billy knew better than to start a fight? “She’s supposed to pay me! That was the deal!

Betty couldn’t be certain what happened when Jughead’s hands left her shoulders. When she finally turned around, Billy was slumped back on the ground, blood spurting his fingers clasped on his nose. Jughead’s fist was clenched, but his smirk was back.

“The deal is I don’t kill you now. You’re welcome.”

His hand went back to her shoulder, forcing her to turn and walk away. She did so without hesitating, pleased to be out of the shadows. Back in the fully lit street, she stuffed her pouch back into her pocket, allowing Jughead to lead the way. It wasn’t long before Billy’s curses were finally out of earshot and Betty felt a huge sense of relief to be finished with the encounter.

“He’s not going to tell me anything ever again after that.”

Jughead’s voice was hard when he answered. “Good. You’re better off.”

Betty waited for him to elaborate, but nothing came. She quickened her pace to keep up with him. “We didn’t find much out. He called it Jingle Jangle, though.”

Jughead snorted, glancing down at her. “I thought you were supposed to be good at playing detective. It’s _made_ here. That’s huge.” When she didn’t respond, he let out an annoyed breath of air. “Listen, if they’re making all of it in Riverdale, that means all the supplies have to be shipped in. Supplies leave a paper trail.”

“So, we can track where the supplies are coming from and who’s ordering them?”

“Exactly.” Jughead rounded the block, leading her back the way they’d come. “From there we can work our way up the ladder. We won’t get anywhere just messing around with the Ghoulies.”

Betty pondered that a moment. He was right. Locating the shipment was their best chance working up the chain of command. “We’d have to know what it’s made of though to hunt down the ingredients. I have no idea what Jingle Jangle even is.”

Jughead slowed his pace and she realized they were close to where she had first run into him. His gang of Serpents had vanished, but a lone bike was parked close by that she concluded was his. “We might be able to find out. How opposed are you to breaking and entering?”

Betty almost laughed. She couldn’t even count how many times she crept through buildings she wasn’t allowed in. “Are you serious? I have a whole stash of tools at home I use just for getting through locked doors. Just tell me when and where.”

Jughead eyed her, a slight tilt to his head. “Am I allowed to know where you live to pick you up tomorrow? I don’t know when we’ll be able to go yet.”

Her smile faltered. A day wasn’t enough to change her mind on his career choice. She thought of Jughead slamming Billy against the wall, knocking the Ghoulie away from her in basement, their conversation over breakfast…Although Betty couldn’t come up with any concrete reason on why she shouldn’t trust him, the large green Serpent on his back was enough for her to slowly shake her head. “No, but you can have my number. Call me when you figure out the details, okay?”

There was a swift exchange of numbers and Jughead began walking to his bike. “I’d offer you a ride home, but I already know what you’d say.” He was smiling, but Betty felt a hot pang of guilt in her gut.

“Thank you!” she shouted, when he’d made it halfway across the street. Jughead paused, looking back at her. “You know, for the whole thing with Billy. It was kind of nice not having to pay him.”

Jughead tilted up his chin, situating his beanie for firmly on his head. “Sure thing, Betts. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

 _Betts_. She liked the ring of that.

Continuing down the sidewalk, waiting for her first chance to hail a cab, there was small bounce in her step that wasn’t there before.


End file.
